A blog about Depression, pregnancy loss and trying to live a normal life.

Monthly Archives: July 2013

We’re on our way to Scotland for a week to sing Sacred Harp and tour around with my husband’s cousin, who is one of my best friends. I may not be posting in that time, but when I get home it will be Linny’ s due date, so I will write about her.

There are so many children in airports. They make me smile because they’re so cute, but they break my heart because they aren’t mine.

Additionally my hormones have evened out after my last AF when I was super irritated for a week and a half. I know because our flight was cancelled and we were delayed 6 hours and I stayed calm. So far.

I just finished my first of eight exams for my Master’s degree and I feel like I was prepared enough and did well. I am now sitting here with a warm cat cuddling between me and the laptop and feeling pretty proud of myself. Three weeks until the next seven happen within a nine day timespan. Oh goodness.

Last night after I posted I realized that I missed Anastasia’s due date on the 20th. I cried. She could have been a year old if she had lived. My husband doesn’t even remember the dates. I hope it doesn’t mean that I’m forgetting her. Not that I ever knew her. I don’t even know if she was really a girl.

Maybe it just means I’m healing. That I can be busy enough travelling Ireland with my in-laws that I don’t have to take time out to grieve more.

I can take time out to think about her now.

I went to the doctor as soon as I found out I was pregnant since the doctor considered the pregnancy high risk with my 0 for 2 batting average. She didn’t do a pregnancy test or anything. She just told me my due date and we talked about how this was going to be the lucky time so we scheduled an ultrasound for 8 weeks.

We told my in-laws when we were out for breakfast that I was pregnant again and we felt really hopeful. I don’t remember telling my parents, it must have been over the phone. Thanksgiving would have been 7 weeks, so we planned to tell the family gatherings then. We told my family at my mom’s birthday party the night before Thanksgiving. Later that night the bleeding started.

I spent Thanksgiving day bawling at a relative’s house and having to explain to everyone that I had been pregnant, but I wasn’t anymore.

I didn’t have to tell my mother-in-law though. It was actually a beautiful moment between us that I treasure. I was sitting in the living room crying when she walked in. She looked at me and I looked at her and I nodded and she started crying. She had lost all her grandbabies. We hugged for a long time.

The next day, instead of shopping, we spent in the ER getting confirmation that Stacia was dead. I don’t know why I felt like I needed that. I wasn’t pregnant long enough to need a D&C. It was awful. I told triage I was having a miscarriage and then we waited five hours. I took a pregnancy test and it was negative. The doctor didn’t believe me. I was so confused. They did an HCG test and it came back at 5. There was hardly any proof that she ever existed. The only thing I could do was go home and wait for the bleeding to stop. It eventually did and the crying too. But the pain is still there. Not every day anymore, just most days.

I should be studying for the eight exams I have coming up in the next month, the first one on Thursday, but I can’t study anymore. I feel like my brain is full. I’m hoping that maybe if I get some of what is weighing on my heart out there, I can get better studying done.

I put a lot into the “about” page, so read that if you want to know where I’ve been and where I’m going. This post is about where I am today.

Where am I today? I’m deathly afraid of the exams I have coming up and the fact that there are eight of them. 8. EIGHT.

But I’m super excited that after I finish the first one, we go to Scotland for a week to sing Sacred Harp (learn more at http://corksacredharp.com/) for the weekend and then do a three day tour and come home.

Of course taking a week off when I should be studying makes me even more afraid of the other seven exams that are coming after that week off.

I’m also loving living in Ireland, the people, the green, the city of Cork, it’s been a wonderful 10 months and I’m sad that it will end in less than two months (to read about our Ireland adventures, see cork2cork.com).

But I also can’t wait for the next two months to fly by so I can start the next phase of trying to start a family.

But I’m so scared to fail again at staying pregnant. I know it’s not my fault, logically, but I still feel guilty, like I failed them, like there was something I could have done and they would have lived. My Josh, my Linny, my Stacia.